


A gentle touch

by FixaIdea



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Ghosts, Hurt/Comfort, Reincarnation, partly anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 13:04:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14895143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FixaIdea/pseuds/FixaIdea
Summary: When the ghost of a young man latches on to Les Amis, their reactions are... mixed, to put it mildly.Feuilly is one of the first to get used to him - to befriend him, even.





	A gentle touch

Feuilly stared up at the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet. He had no idea why he even used it – he knew full well he wasn’t tall enough to reach it. So far he used a chair to stand on, but lately it has started to creak dangerously, so he didn’t want to risk putting too much weight on it. Which of course left awkwardly climbing up on the counter as his only option.

He sighed, resigned, and moved to start climbing - when the jar he was trying to reach wavered. It trembled a little, then slowly, oh so slowly started to slide towards the edge of the shelf. Feuilly positioned himself under it and held out his hands. The jar toppled over the edge and flopped right into his palms.

Feuilly smiled.

‘Thank you, Enjolras!’

The lamp flickered – a friendly nod.

It took Feuilly a couple of month to get used to the ghost that was haunting him and his friends, but now he was an integral part of his life.

Not everyone has taken to him so easily. Once they put the pieces together and confirmed that the source of all the little anomalies and weird sensations surrounding them was a ghost, most of Les Amis freaked out. Bahorel threatened the entity with an exorcist. Grantaire – after the spirit touched his hand – went into a hysterical, crying breakdown. Neither of them experienced anything remotely otherworldly ever since.

Joly, Lesgle and Courfeyrac were uneasy but didn’t try to outright chase the ghost away. In accordance, while he attempted to get their attention from time to time, he mostly stayed away and chose to linger around the only three people who showed him more that reluctant tolerance: Combeferre, Prouvaire and Feuilly.

Prouvaire was of course over the moon, being haunted by an actual ghost and spent hours trying to communicate with him. Thus he was the source of most of what they knew of the entity: he was a young man called Enjolras who died at age 27, in 1832. When Jehan asked why he chose them, specifically, to haunt the spirit said he had his reasons but wasn’t ready to talk about them. Jehan did not press the issue after that.

Combeferre’s interest was largely scientific, at least at first. He was trying his best to capture their ghost on camera and was overjoyed when he finally started to show up on recordings, even if only as a vague smudge.

As for Feuilly, he just wanted to help. Right from the beginning, it seemed to him this poor spirit was begging for affection, doing everything in its meagre powers to win their friendship. He found lost keys, he kept forgotten mugs of tea warm, draped blankets around those who passed out on a couch… He was rubbing at their ankles like an attention-starved cat – metaphorically, but also physically.

Oh yes, there was that – he seemed to love touching. Feuilly always thought ghosts were cold, but this one was not. Maybe he was just different, or maybe he had to put effort into making his touch feel more pleasant, Feuilly could not tell. Anyhow, he often felt a patch of warmth pressed against his side, his shoulders or his back. He found it oddly reassuring. He was no stranger to loneliness and now he had a companion he could always call upon whenever he wanted. All he had to do was whisper his name and the ghost would come.

Also, recognition and, above all, affection seemed to give him power. When the haunting first began, he could barely move particles of spilled sugar or flick the lights on and off – nowadays he could even show himself, even if it was only in the form of a pair of luminous blue eyes and a faint outline.

There he was again – Feuilly noted as he shook himself out of his musing – lingering in the doorway. Feuilly gathered up the food he prepared and moved into the bedroom (which doubled as a living room). The blue spots bobbed in the air as the ghost followed him. Feuilly took his place at his desk and watched as the cover dipped slightly on his bed. As he ate he told the ghost about his day, sometimes injecting simple yes or no questions his strange friend could answer by flicking the lamplight.

When he finished his meal he saw the cover straighten, and felt a familiar warmth press against his shin. The blue spots were floating mid-air, in level with his knees.

‘Hold up, I have an idea!’

He reached over the bed and grabbed a pillow.

‘Can you possess this?’

The glowing eyes turned up to look at him, tilted to the side in obvious confusion.

‘Come on, give it a try!’

The eyes disappeared and then, a fraction of a second later, the pillow twitched. Perfect.

Slowly, gently, Feuilly held it to his chest. The pillow shuddered and then flattened against his body, the spirit in it desperately trying to get even closer. Feuilly hugged him tightly. The pressed a hand to the upper side of the pillow, imagining it was a head and ran his thumb over it again and again in a sweet caress.

Warmth exploded in his chest, he was overcome with emotions he knew weren’t his own. Pain, loneliness, but also relief and desperate, deep love. Tears gathered in his eyes and he pressed a kiss on to the pillow, cradling it close. He could have sworn that just around the edge of his perception he could hear someone weeping. He leant back in the chair, the pillow still pressed flat against his chest.

‘I’ve got you. It’s all right, I’ve got you. You don’t have to be alone anymore. You are loved.’


End file.
